Snow white ashes
by BlizzardNight
Summary: He was grabbed by the scruff of his collar and dragged into a pack of heigh. They whispered for him to be quiet. To not scream. They would protect him. They would protect him to his dying breath. He watched them die. He couldn't do anything and he watched them die. He felt terrible. He was this nation! He should be fighting for his people! For his people he did so much with! For hi


He looked upon the scorched fields of his land. His citizens in a frenzy. The air was cold and humid. Smoke ran rancid. Houses were burning as were people. _His people_. He felt the need to collapse. Fear was taking him by the neck. He could hear blood curling screams. Shouts from the people defending, but it was in vain. These people. These monsters wanted his land. For what? _What did they want with him?_

He was grabbed by the scruff of his collar and dragged into a pack of heigh. They whispered for him to be quiet. To not scream. They would protect him. They would protect him to his dying breath. He watched them die. He couldn't do anything and he watched them die. He felt terrible. He was this nation! He should be fighting for his people! For his people he did so much with! For his people he played in the fields with. Who he hunted with. Who he defended. All he could do was watch as it all burned down to ashes.

He sobbed back tears and choked his screams. He couldn't be found out. He just couldn't. They were pillaging. What were they doing it for exactly? He had no clue. He didn't want to know. Yes he definitively did not want to know. They were screaming in a foreign tongue. He wasn't sure what they were saying. They seemed to be looking for something. _Or someone_ , he thought to himself.

Hopefully they weren't looking for him. He wouldn't be caught. He wouldn't die, not here, not now. He needed to live. He just had to live. Living was something he had craved for so so much. He just couldn't have it snatched away from him. Not again, not ever again. He closed his eyes tightly, hoping that if he couldn't see them, they couldn't see him.

It was a futile endeavour as hours passed he was dragged out of the stack of heigh. He looked into angry brown eyes. The look of fear the crossed the man's face as he was harshly dropped to the ground was something seared into his mind. He knew that face. It was the face of a man who had seen the devil himself. He pulled out his sword hastily in an attempt to get rid of him.

Prussia rolled out of the way before running off. He didn't care where he ran off. He just wanted to be away, away from here. Away from all this nonsense. He wanted his people, he wanted those simple days. He wanted peace back and most of all he wanted these men gone.

He couldn't believe that this time. This time was the end. These men had succeeded. He could say goodbye to himself. But he didn't want to. He still yearned to live. Would this be a goodbye? Would he have to say goodbye to his fellow tribes men? He felt fear. So so much fear. He was Prussia! He hadn't been conquered by the Teutonic knights in the past, not ever. So why now? _Why was now different!_

He stopped dead in his tracks. A man holding a sword was about to swing down upon him. He dodged out of the way only to be grabbed by another man. The man laughed a deep laugh before pulling him over to his people's water supplies. This was it. This was the end. He could say goodbye to his simple life. He could say goodbye to the Baltic sea. _Gods, or god, forgive me for my early arrival among you all. **Forgive me**._ His face was an inch away from the water. He could feel the coolness coming off from it. He heard yelling. More yelling. Come on with it, if you're going to kill someone don't drag it out.

He was dropped. To his surprise, he was dropped. He looked up, staring into a young face with old brown eyes. He turned his head, next to him was someone who seemed to be a bit older, with equally old green eyes. He sat there tense, attempting to mask his fear. The young boy with brown eyes put out his hand, a happy smile on his face. His voice was soft and the language he was speaking flood out the same. He looked at the hand nervously, unsure if he should grab it or not.

You shouldn't trust someone who slaughtered your people, he thought to himself. But to survive you should trust the one's who hold you captive, another part of himself thought. You need to survive. You need to live. Death is not an option. He nodded to himself internally. Death was no longer an option.

He took the brown eyed boy's hand confidently. The boy smiled.

 _Am I a traitor to my people?  
_

 _I am no better than a beggar.  
_

 _But I must live. I must live on to remember those who have died. Carry their names. Cherish them. Remember them. For they are your real family. For they are what made you, you._


End file.
